Darkness. Brooding, ruthless darkness. That is all I could see. It extended out to the furthest edges of my vision. Snuffing out anything I thought I knew was there. No longer could I convince myself I knew where I was, nor what I was doing. Confusion flooded my chest, an anxiety along with it. The anxiety was overbearing, foreboding a dreadful demise at the hands of an unknown beast. If I were to die, I’d like it to be at the hands of an enemy I could see. So I could put a face to the name I would inevitably be cursing. 

I closed my eyes, warding away the anxieties and unknown lurkers. A new darkness surrounded me, one I could control this time. Different, less horrifying. A painless one, yet lonely all the same. I knew where I was, what I was doing. Letting yourself get consumed by the dreaded darkness would only mean losing completely any sense of your person. It would mean becoming a new person entirely. One molded in darkness. Just another one of the monsters lurking there. 

I breathed deeply. Control. I was in control. Regardless of how many centuries I practice this, the reminder is always helpful. The darkness was a ruthless being and letting go of even an ounce of your control would prove fatal. I adjusted my hands, holding the fully bloomed rose a bit tighter in my left. My right sat comfortably, palm up in my lap. 

Well practiced words fell from my lips. I’d uttered them countless times before. This spell being one of my more common ones. They came as second nature to me now. So much so that I didn't even register myself saying them. 

My eyes snapped open, a blinding white light now overcoming the darkness. Unfortunately, no matter how practiced a spell is, slip ups are likely. This being one of those instances. As soon as the desired mirror appeared, proving the spell successful, it cracked right down the middle. I watched in horror as the mirror shattered, instantly breaking the spell. 

Pain spread through my spine as I made rough contact with the ground. I groaned quite exaggeratedly while laying on the cold, dark marble of my library floors. I flung my arm over my eyes, wishing to block out the overwhelming picture of the high, stone ceilings. That's not to mention the shame of yet another failure. 

The spell was meant to summon a mirror that would allow me to see the one I so desired. Obviously that didn't happen. I sigh and stand, no longer finding comfort in my self pity. I brush off my black tunic and adjust my braid over my shoulder in an attempt to make myself look more presentable, while also attempting to not show the burning anger coursing through my blood at the prospect of another misconduct. 

My anger was less at the dereliction of the spell and more so directed at the fact that I have yet to see him. The mirror was intended to allow me that privilege, but alas, I am not so lucky. 

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Being apart from him is dreadful. Not something I intend to get used to. However, this mission was particularly important, and I trust him the most out of anyone. Letting go of one’s Bonded is never an easy feat. Especially for one of my lineage. 

One’s Bonded is their other half. Their soul. Their heart. It is bigger than the marriage of the mortals. Even than the mating of wolves. It is forever. And forever is quite the long time for us pointed ear folk; long haired ones; elves. We live for centuries; we love for centuries. If one of us were to die, the other would not bond again. Bonding means for eternity. So orders the tradition. 

Normally, I wouldn't allow my beloved Bonded to go on such a dangerous outing without my accompaniment. On any outing without myself for that matter. However, as previously mentioned, I am a king. And a kingdom needs it’s king, so are the words of my Bonded. Additionally, he insisted. And he does have free will. Thus, as painful as it was, I let him go alone, with the knowledge I could see him whenever I liked through this ever failing spell.

Clearly though, that knowledge was false, as I have yet to see him. To make matters worse, he has sent no word of his condition nor whereabouts. As frustrating as it is to admit, I am worried. Anxiety seems to bubble constantly in my chest. Mere breath is hard when separated from him. The prospect of seeing him possible, yet so far out of my grasp. Of course, he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, I know this. However, the task was less than facile, and certainly not one I’d expect for him to come completely unscathed from. 

I sent him down the mountain, past my barriers, to escort the mortal king of a neighboring kingdom to my palace. He had requested an audience with me unfortunately. The use of the word unfortunately here hardly properly expresses my true disdain for our meeting. Socializing with people who aren’t my Bonded, is a chore at best. Particularly when said person is a mortal, and a king at that. 

I am not too fond of my fellow kings. They tend to be arrogant, rude, impulsive. Particularly the mortal ones, this man being. Mortals also seem to lack the ability to shower. Every one of them I’ve met seems to be putrid in smell. Or at least I have yet to meet a pleasant smelling one. This may be an unfair observation, but alas, I care not for the fairness of my insults. Mortals have no issues insulting my kind, why should I show them a courtesy I'm not equally reciprocated. 

I make my way out of the library and down the halls of my palace, one location in mind; my bedroom. I wished only for a good rest. Maybe if I slept, the spell would prove more successful. That would make seeing him possible, which is not a thing I’d like to pass up. Suppressing the grin that spreads across my face at the thought of seeing my beloved is futile. As is the way my heart skips a beat simply at his name.

“Your highness,” Unfortunately, my reverie is interrupted. I willingly let a grimace take over my features, his voice grating on every one of my nerves. I turn sharply on my heel, in absolutely no mood to have had my fantasies interrupted. My eyes close and I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It doesn't work, naturally. In all my centuries on this plane of existence, I still have yet to make progress in placating my anger. 

“What is it?” I keep my tone professional. It is a reflex at this point. Centuries of rigorous training will do that to a man. Of course, it is expected of me. Kings are not meant to show their emotions as normal civilians do. We are meant to be level headed and calm. A distraught king means a distraught kingdom. And that is a thing no good king wishes to have. 

“He has returned.”